A different day in May
by cein
Summary: 9 - What will Carter and Dave do now?
1. Part 1

A different day in May  
(An alternative universe fic featuring Dave and Carter)  
  
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Carter hurried towards the doors of the ER, hoping that no one would stop him...he couldn't bear the thought of speaking to anyone...sure that they would have the same look on their faces as the people at his intervention...intervention...hah...more like an ambush...he didn't need them...he didn't have a problem...okay, he'd taken fentanyl...and yeah...it wasn't the first time...but he needed it...how else could he work...  
  
"Carter!" A voice cut through his thoughts.   
  
"Damm," he thought to himself as he pushed his way through the doors, hoping that whoever it was would think he hadn't heard them.  
  
"Wait up, Carter..."  
  
Carter breathed a slight sigh of relief as Dave pushed his way through the doors after him. "Man, what's the hurry?" Dave asked. "Listen, glad I caught you...you wanna go get a beer or something?"  
  
Carter was about to decline, when the doors opened again, as Peter finally caught up with him.  
  
"Carter, I need to talk to you," said Peter. His face was a mixture of relief that he had caught up with him, and annoyance that he wasn't alone.  
  
"Yes Dave, I will go and get a beer with you," said Carter, firmly.   
  
"Cool," said Dave, "You got your jeep? Cause if so, I can fit my bike in the back, and you can drive. I know this really great place, about ten blocks from here."  
  
"He's not going anywhere with you," said Peter, glaring at the younger man. "Carter, you're coming with me." He reached out to take Carter's arm, but Carter backed away, and Dave stepped in between them.  
  
"Doesn't look like he wants to go anywhere with you," said Dave. "Maybe you should leave him alone."  
  
"Get out of my face, Malucci," said Peter angrily. "You don't know anything about it." He tried to go around Dave to reach Carter, but Dave kept blocking his path. "Let me past or I'll have you suspended."  
  
"Hey," said Dave, indignantly, "You may be able to throw your weight when we're in the ER...but guess what...I'm off duty now...you can't push me around out here. Carter wants to come for a drink with me...you got a problem with that...then tough...we're both off-duty...what we do isn't your business..."  
  
"He's right Dr. Benton," said Carter. "What I do isn't your business...not anymore...just leave me alone...please..."   
  
"Don't do this man," said Peter, a note of desperation in his voice. "It's not too late...come with me...you'll be okay..."  
  
Carter shook his head. "I can't do that...I...I'm sorry...Dave...I...I'll go get the jeep...you...you meet me out front with your bike..." Numbly, he turned away, not wishing to see the disappointment that was etched on Peter's face.   
  
Dave frowned as he watched Carter go. Something was wrong here...he could tell...  
  
Turning back to Peter, he was surprised at the venom in the older man's voice as he said, "You have no idea what you've just done, Malucci..." before turning and heading back into the ER.  
  
"Man, something weird is going on," said Dave to himself before going for his bike.  
  
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"So," said Dave, as he raised his beer. "You wanna talk about it?"  
  
Carter shrugged, "About what?" he asked, knowing full well what Dave was referring to.  
  
"You know what...about earlier...with Benton...did I get stuck in the middle of a lovers quarrel or something?"   
  
Carter put his glass down and stared gloomily into it. He should have known that Dave would demand an explanation sooner or later...he was only surprised it had taken him so long to ask.  
  
Sighing, he said, "You're probably going to find out soon enough...but I quit County..."  
  
Dave blinked, "Come again? You mean, quit as in left for the day, right?"  
  
Carter shook his head, "I mean quit as in, resigned, walked out, stopped working there, never darken its door again...I'm finished with County...I'm not going back...not that I'd be welcome..."  
  
Dave stared at Carter in amazement. "You're really serious?"  
  
Carter nodded.  
  
"What the hell for?" Dave thought for a minute. "Say, is this cause you didn't get this 'Chief Resident' gig for fourth year? I mean, I know it's a tough break you not being allowed to apply cause you missed so much time, but it's not the end of the world. I mean, you'll be able to try for it next year, right? Course that means you'll be up against me and Chen," Dave smirked, "But you're bound to be in the running."   
  
Carter shook his head, "That's not the reason...I...I just couldn't stand it anymore." He took a gulp of his drink then stood abruptly. "I'll be back in a minute," he said hesitantly before heading off in the direction of the men's room.  
  
Dave frowned as he watched Carter leave. Geez, the guy was so jumpy, what was the matter with him these days... His thoughts were interrupted by the tones of a cell phone. Dave reached instinctively for his pocket before realizing that the sound was coming from Carter's jacket, which was folded neatly on the seat beside him.  
  
Dave wrestled with his conscience for a few minutes before reaching into Carter's jacket and retrieving the phone. He frowned as he read the name on the display, but only hesitated briefly before pressing 'answer'.  
  
"Hello," he said in as muffled a voice as he could manage.  
  
He heard the voice on the other end speak, "John, it's Kerry...please don't hang up on me...I'm sorry about what happened earlier. We...we should never have confronted you like that."  
  
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To be continued  
  
(Thanks to kitchensink5 for her suggestion for a title)  
  
Ceindreadh  
  



	2. Part 2

Maybe Mayday - 02  
  
Previously on ER  
As Carter hurried away from the Intervention in Curtain 3, Dave caught up with him and invited him for drinks. Carter accepted in order to avoid Benton trying to persuade him to seek help. Later in the bar, Carter told Dave that he had quit working at County. While Carter left to go to the bathroom, his cell phone rang and Dave answered it, pretending to be Carter.   
  
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Dave wrestled with his conscience for a few minutes before reaching into Carter's jacket and retrieving the phone. He frowned as he read the name on the display, but only hesitated briefly before pressing 'answer'.  
  
"Hello," he said in as muffled a voice as he could manage.  
  
He heard the voice on the other end speak, "John, it's Kerry...please don't hang up on me...I'm sorry about what happened earlier. We...we should never have confronted you like that."  
  
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Dave stared at the phone in shock at what he had just heard. He couldn't believe it...Carter of all people...an alcoholic. Man, this couldn't be happening. Okay, so the Chief hadn't said straight out about it, but Dave could read between the lines. All this talk about the strain he'd been under...how she understood how he needed some help to get through the day...it was all perfectly clear. Dave had listened while Kerry did her best to persuade 'John' to return to County...or at the very least to check himself into Rehab. Finally, unable to take it any more, he had broken the connection and wondered just what the hell to do.   
  
The sudden ringing of the phone in his hand nearly made him drop it. Looking at the screen, he saw that it was Kerry again. On impulse he rejected the call and then switched it off. Quickly he returned the phone to Carter's jacket and sat back down. Grabbing his glass, he gulped down his drink. "Man," he thought as he wiped his mouth, "how the hell could this have happened?" The answer was obvious to Dave. Sobriki...that bastard. Bad enough that he had killed Lucy and nearly killed Carter, now Carter was obviously crawling down the neck of a bottle in order to escape from him.   
  
Dave looked at his empty glass in disgust. "Great work Malucci," he told himself. "Your best friends an alcoholic and you invite him out to a bar. Crap crap crap. Well okay...you've screwed up big time. That's obviously what Benton was on about earlier...trying to get him into Rehab or something. Well maybe he was right...I didn't know what I was doing then...but I do now...and I'm not letting Carter go down without a fight."  
  
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Carter splashed some water on his face and smirked as he looked in the mirror. "Looking good, Carter," he told himself. "I don't know why I was so worried," he said to himself as he rolled down his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs. "After all, I don't need County...or any of them. I can get a job like that." He snapped his fingers. "Damn right. Any hospital would be glad to have me...and if they're not...hell, I can always take a leaf out of *Deb's* book and get 'Daddy' to buy my way in." The thought of his parents wiped away some of Carter's good humor. After what the family had been through over Chase, he didn't think they'd be too impressed to have another Carter grandson accused of drug abuse. "It's not the same," he told his reflection. "Chase was doing drugs for kicks. He got addicted and took some bad stuff...that's why he's in a nursing home. I'm not like him. I take a little bit of morphine...maybe some fentanyl when I can get it...but it's just to ease the pain. I mean, I couldn't work with all the pain I was in...and I had to work...I had to go into work like nothing had happened. I had to walk into curtain 3 every day and try not to throw up. But I don't have a problem. Not me...not John Truman Carter. Who did they think they were, telling me I had a drug problem? I'm a better doctor than any of them."  
  
Carter realized that he was gripping tightly on the sides of the basin. Unclenching his fists, he took a few deep breaths and headed back to the bar, wondering as he did, just what sort of story he could tell Malucci to explain why he had left County. Maybe he should buy him another drink. A drunk Malucci was less likely to be asking questions...unless they were of the 'do you think that chick's hot?' variety.  
  
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Carter approached the table carrying two more glasses in his hands. Dave looked up and stifled a groan as he saw him. "Oh man," he thought. "This is bad...he hasn't even finished his first drink and he's got another one. That's a classic sign."   
  
Forcing a smile on his face, he took his drink from Carter. "Geez, thanks man," he said. "You didn't need to. I mean you already got the first round."  
  
Carter shrugged. "It's okay, you can buy the next two."  
  
Dave nearly choked on his drink. "Yeah right man," he said automatically.   
  
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Back at the hospital, Kerry was trying unsuccessfully to get back in touch with Carter. "He must have switched it off," she said unhappily. "Dammit, why wouldn't he even talk to me?"  
  
"There's got to be something we can do," said Jing-Mei, looking round the lounge at her fellow interventionists.  
  
Mark shrugged, "There's not a lot we can do. Carter's a grown man...we can't force him into Rehab if he's not ready to go."  
  
"But we can't just sit here and do nothing...we should at least try and find him...try again to persuade him."  
  
"We don't even know where he is," said Mark, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "And if his phone's switched off...he obviously doesn't want to be found."  
  
"What about Malucci's phone?" asked Jing-Mei.  
  
Kerry stared open-mouthed, "Why didn't I think of that," she said. "I'll get his number from personnel." She hurried away to reception.   
  
"Like he'll be any help," snorted Peter in disgust. "If he'd have just stepped aside and let talk to Carter...I'd have been able to get him into the van. He'd be halfway to Atlanta by now."  
  
Anspaugh spoke for the first time, "I hardly think that dragging him kicking and screaming into the Rehab facility is the best way to ensure his successful treatment. As Mark said, if Carter isn't ready to go to Rehab then we can't force him. And if he can't admit his problem to himself then it isn't going to do him any good anyway. All we can do is wait. Wait, and hope that he comes to his senses."  
  
There was silence in the room, broken only when Kerry returned with a slip of paper.  
"I just hope Dave has his phone switched on," she said, as she started to punch in the digits.  
  
"Hold up a minute Kerry," said Peter.   
  
Kerry looked curiously at him, but broke the connection. With the receiver still in her hand, she said, "Well?"  
  
"I don't think we should tell Malucci what's going on. Just ask him where he is and tell him to stay there until we arrive."  
  
"He's going to want to know why," said Kerry, frowning.   
  
"Yeah, well it's none of his business. The last thing Carter needs is the whole of County finding out that he has a problem."  
  
"I think you're misjudging Dave," said Jing-Mei thoughtfully. "I mean, I know he's a bit of a jerk at times."   
  
There was a muffled snort from Mark, before Jing-Mei continued, "But I don't think he'd spread around something like this. I think we should tell him the truth. I mean Carter's his friend..."  
  
"No," said Peter stubbornly.   
  
"Mark, Kerry," said Anspaugh, "What do the two of you think? I mean I don't know this Dr. Malucci and you both do. Would it do more harm than good to inform him of the reason you need to find Dr. Carter?"  
  
Mark frowned, "Malucci's careless and irresponsible. He's also a wild card. If we told him about Carter...I don't know what he'd do with the information. Probably announce it from the admit desk."  
  
"Kerry?" said Anspaugh.  
  
"He is a bit of a gossip," said Kerry reluctantly. "But he's never been malicious with it. I honestly don't think he'd deliberately spread this around."  
  
"No, but he can't keep his mouth shut, he'd let out sooner or later," said Peter. "I mean, I know it's going to come out eventually...secrets don't stay secrets for long at County. But I'd rather it wasn't him that spread it."  
  
"Okay," said Kerry finally, "I won't tell him...unless I feel it's the only way to get him to help." Before anyone could argue further, she punched in the number and waited for a response.  
  
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Dave was sipping at his drink, trying to make it last while he figured out the best way to get Carter out of the bar. Maybe he could bring him back to his place. "Yeah, that might work," he thought. "Get him to my apartment and then keep him there until he dries out. Once he's got it all out of his system then maybe I can get him in touch with AA or something. I can't just let him drink up and leave..."  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cell phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he frowned as he recognized the number.   
  
"Looks like it's the hospital," he said to Carter.   
  
Carter's face drained of color. "Do...do you have to answer it?" he asked, hesitantly.  
  
"I don't know Carter," said Dave, evenly. "It could be important."  
  
The phone continued to ring.  
  
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To be continued.  
  



	3. Part 3

A different day in May - part 3  
  
Previously on ER  
As Carter hurried away from the Intervention in Curtain 3, Dave caught up with him and invited him for drinks. Carter accepted in order to avoid Benton trying to persuade him to go to Rehab. Later in the bar, Carter told Dave that he had quit working at County. While Carter left to go to the bathroom, his cell phone rang. Dave answered it, pretending to be Carter and heard Kerry apologize to 'John' for confronting him over his addiction. He hung up, but not before jumping to the conclusion that Carter was an alcoholic. Carter returned from the bathroom feeling a lot more confident. Meanwhile, Kerry and the other 'interventionists' debated how best to help Carter, finally coming to the conclusion that they should phone Dave on his cell phone, but not tell him about Carter's problem.  
  
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Dave's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cell phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he frowned as he recognized the number.   
  
"Looks like it's the hospital," he said to Carter.   
  
Carter's face drained of color. "Do...do you have to answer it?" he asked, hesitantly.  
  
"I don't know Carter," said Dave, evenly. "It could be important."  
  
The phone continued to ring.  
  
---------------  
  
"Don't answer it," said Carter, trying to control himself. "They probably just want to ask you about a patient or something. You're off-duty...they've no right to hassle you."  
  
Dave looked sharply at Carter. This more than anything else told him that something was badly wrong with his friend. After all, this was the guy who reputedly had traveled the length and breadth of Chicago trying to find a blood donor for a little girl...and he had been off-duty at the time.  
  
"I'd better answer it," said Dave finally as he pressed the button.   
"Malucci here," he said into the phone. "Wassup?"  
  
Kerry breathed a sigh of relief as Dave finally answered. "Dave, it's Dr. Weaver here. I...we...is Carter there with you? Just answer yes or no," she added hastily.   
  
"Yes," replied Dave, looking Carter in the eye.   
  
"Okay, I want you to listen to me carefully. It's important that John comes back to the hospital. I want to send Dr. Benton and Dr. Greene to pick him up. Can you keep him there?"  
  
"Hang on a minute, Chief," said Dave, "It's pretty noisy here, just let me go somewhere a bit quieter."  
  
Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he said to Carter, "I'll be back in a minute."  
Dave didn't really want to leave Carter alone, but he didn't want to discuss things in front of him either. He figured that by standing near the doorway he'd be able to talk in private *and* make sure that Carter didn't do a runner.  
  
"Okay Chief, he can't hear me...what were you saying?"  
  
"It's imperative that Carter comes back to the hospital immediately," said Kerry.   
  
"Why's it so important?" asked Dave. "I mean, he told me he'd quit working there...wouldn't say why though. Has that got something to do with it?"  
  
Kerry hesitated before replying. "Partly. I'd rather not go into it now...do you think you'll be able to keep him with you?"  
  
"Yeah...yeah I guess so...might be easier if I knew what was bugging him..." Dave waited, but Kerry didn't reply.   
"Okay," said Dave, finally. "I'll try and keep him here."  
  
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Carter gulped down a mouthful of his drink, grimacing slightly at the taste. He wondered what Kerry was telling Dave. Shit, shit, shit, she was probably telling him all about the intervention...or would she. Carter pondered the question. Kerry had gone to great lengths to keep the intervention secret from the rest of the ER staff...he was sure of it. After he had stormed out of Curtain 3, nobody in the corridor had so much as given him a second glance...well except Abby of course, he thought with a surge of anger. Little telltale. What business of her was it if he chose to take his medication in an exam room? And injecting oneself in the wrist, while unconventional wasn't unheard of. Okay, he *had* denied it to Mark and Kerry afterwards, but it wasn't any of their business. He needed his medication, and when or how he took it was up to him. They obviously had no concept of how hard it was to force himself to go through his daily routine at work. They had no idea what it was like to work until his body was screaming in pain and the only relief was a quick jab of morphine...and oh, what a relief it was...the soothing feeling as he pulled the needle out and knew that the pain was going to fade far far away. He knew people wouldn't understand. That was why he never made a big deal about it. He came into work on time. He did whatever they told him to. He never complained. He just kept working. So what if he needed medication to help him...nobody complained if a diabetic needed insulin...and he needed painkillers...he did...really.  
  
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"Yeah Chief," Dave said. "I'll keep him here until Benton and Greene get here."  
  
"They might get there a little faster if you actually told me where you are," said Kerry, dryly.   
  
"Oh yeah," said Dave, smiling involuntarily. "Yeah, we're at..." The sudden entrance of a crowd of people interrupted Dave. They pushed past Dave, chattering noisily and milled around him as they argued about who was getting the first round in. Dave started to tell Kerry where they were but soon realized that she couldn't hear him over the noise.   
  
Dave cursed under his breath as he waited for the crowd to disperse. This was bad...he hadn't wanted to leave Carter alone for too long...God only knew how much he would have drunk by the time he got back to the table.   
  
Shit, swore Dave under his breath as the crowd of people managed to obstruct his view of the table where he'd left Carter. He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to get a clear line of sight, but it seemed like everyone was going in a different direction and he was jostled several times, nearly dropping the phone in the process. Finally, the crowd thinned out and Dave was able to see the table.  
  
"Oh shit," he groaned.  
  
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Carter watched nervously as Dave spoke on the phone. Why the hell couldn't Kerry let it rest? She wasn't his mother...hell; as of a couple of hours ago she wasn't even his boss. He was a free agent...he could go anywhere, do anything...he didn't need anyone's permission or approval anymore. The only person he had to please was himself. If he wanted to use morphine to control his pain...to help him function, then that was his business. It wasn't as if anyone had suffered because of it...he had never put his patients at risk...hell, they'd have been at risk if he *hadn't* been taking anything. Trying to work without any medication would have left him tired and distracted...he wouldn't have been able to concentrate and he could have put patient's lives in danger.   
  
"But what about that woman who you wrote the wrong orders for?" said a little voice in his mind. "She could have died because you forgot about her allergy."  
  
"That's not my fault," Carter told himself. "Well okay...it *was* my fault...but I just wasn't concentrating properly...but it had nothing to do with my meds."  
  
John sipped from his glass as he remembered that day. He was pretty certain that Deb had gone and blabbed to Kerry about his mistake. What right did *she* have to accuse him of endangering patients. "Lost any guide wires lately Deb." That's what he should have said to her at the intervention. He supposed he was lucky that Dave's screw-up that day had been serious enough to divert attention from him.  
  
As Carter watched, Dave looked over in his direction and nodded at something he was being told on the phone. Then a crowd of people surged into the bar, momentarily blocking Dave from his view. Acting on impulse, Carter grabbed his jacket and moved towards the back of the bar, figuring that there was probably another exit there. He could easily get to his jeep and be gone before Dave was finished talking. It was probably for the best, he reasoned. Dave didn't need to have Kerry and Mark on his back any more than they already were.  
  
Carter sighed as he followed the exit signs. He was going to miss his friends at County...but there was no way he could have continued to work there...not when people whom he had thought were his friends could believe that he was an addict.   
  
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Dave stared at the empty table and swore. "Dammit Chief, he's gone...he was only out of sight for a minute...I'll catch up with him and call you back." He quickly disconnected and headed back to the table to grab his jacket.  
  
A barmaid was clearing the table of glasses when he got there. "Hey," said Dave. "The guy who was at this table, 6-1, brown hair, sort of worried looking...did you see where he went?"  
  
"Sure, he asked me was there another way out of this place...so I pointed him towards the back way."  
  
"There's another way out? Oh shit," said Dave, before hurrying off in the direction she had indicated, and praying that he'd catch up with Carter before he got too far.  
  
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"No wait," said Kerry, "Tell us where you are first." But the connection was already broken. She looked round at the expectant faces in the room with her and shook her head.   
  
"I knew Malucci wouldn't be any help," said Peter in disgust.   
  
"He was going to tell me where they were when he realized that John had left. He's going to catch up with him and call us back. I'm guessing that John figured out what was going on and didn't want to face us."  
  
"So what do we do now?" asked Jing-Mei.  
  
Mark shrugged, "I don't think there's anything more we can do. We've already left messages on his answering machine and with his grandparents asking him to come back to the hospital. We've done all we can. Until Carter realizes that he needs help...there's nothing more to be done."  
  
"Maybe Dave will catch him and bring him back," said Jing-Mei hopefully.  
  
"And maybe Romano will grow an Afro," said Peter. "No, Carter's only hope is if we find him and get him to Atlanta."  
  
"Chicago's a big city," said Kerry, "Where were you planning on starting to look?"  
  
"I'm going to go to his apartment and wait. He'll have to come home sooner or later."  
  
He looked around at the skeptical faces. "Any of you got a better idea?"   
  
There was silence. "Okay then," said Peter, pulling his jacket on. "I'll call you when I find him."   
  
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To be continued  
  



	4. Part 4

A different day in May - part 4  
  
Previously on ER  
As Carter hurried away from the Intervention in Curtain 3, Dave caught up with him and invited him for drinks. Carter accepted in order to avoid Benton trying to persuade him to seek help. Later in the bar, Carter told Dave that he had quit working at County. While Carter left to go to the bathroom, his cell phone rang and Dave answered it, pretending to be Carter and heard Kerry apologize to 'John' for confronting him over his addiction. Dave hung up, but not before jumping to the conclusion that Carter was an alcoholic. Carter returned from the bathroom feeling a lot more confident. Meanwhile, Kerry and the other 'interventionists' debated how best to help Carter, finally coming to the conclusion that they should phone Dave on his cell phone, but not tell him about Carter's problem.   
Kerry asked Dave to keep Carter at the bar until Mark and Peter arrived. He agreed, and was about to tell them where he was when he realized that Carter wasn't where he had left him. In his haste to find Carter, Dave forgot to tell Kerry the location of the bar.  
Disgusted by Dave's lack of help, Peter set out to Carter's apartment to wait for him to come home.  
  
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Carter made his way out the back exit of the bar and circled the building to get back to his jeep. "Another half hour or so and I'll be home," he told himself as he fumbled for his keys. "And no one will be able to bother me."   
  
Carter unlocked the jeep and quickly slid in behind the wheel. Adjusting the mirror, he cursed under his breath as he saw Dave's bike in the back. "Damn, damn, damn," he said, banging his head against the steering wheel in frustration. He couldn't just drive off and leave Dave stranded here. Okay, it wasn't too far from his apartment...Dave could easily walk it...but the bike was Dave's sole means of transportation. Carter couldn't just drive off with it...especially since he wasn't planning on seeing Dave any time soon. Carter sighed as he took the keys out of the ignition. Turning to open the door, he yelped in surprise at the sight of a face squashed up against the window.   
  
"Malucci, get away from there," snapped Carter. Dave stepped back and Carter opened the door, and climbed out. "What the hell did you do that for? You scared the crap out of me."  
  
"Not literally, I hope," said Dave. "I came looking for you...why'd you run out on me like that?"  
  
"I didn't run out on you," said Carter. "I...um, I wanted a cigarette and I figured I wouldn't be able to light up in there...so...so I came out here...and I was just going to use the car lighter...that's all...I was going to come back in."  
  
"Oh, okay," said Dave, wondering whether to believe him or not. He supposed that Carter could be telling the truth, but he wasn't sure.  
  
"What...what did Dr. Weaver want?" Carter asked hesitantly. Dave didn't seem to be looking at him any differently, so maybe she hadn't told him anything.  
  
Dave looked Carter in the eye. "She wanted to know if you were okay...thought you might be a bit upset after today...I guess she was worried after you quitting like that."  
  
Carter breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for Kerry and her discretion. He should have known that she wouldn't tell 'motor mouth' Malucci about any rumors. "I hope you told her I was fine," he said to Dave.  
  
Dave shrugged, "You probably shouldn't have run off like that...earlier I mean. The Chief sounded worried."  
  
"Yeah...well I'll call her in the morning...let her know there's nothing to worry about," lied Carter.   
  
"So, d'you wanna come back inside?" asked Dave.  
  
"Actually...it's been a busy day...I think I'd rather go home, if that's all right with you."  
  
"Sure, whatever...our seats are probably gone by now anyway," said Dave. "You don't mind giving me a ride to my place?"  
  
Actually all Carter wanted to do was get as far away from Dave and any reminder of County General as he could, but he knew it would be bad manners to let Dave cycle.  
"Sure...you're not too far from here, right?"  
  
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Carter pulled up in front of Dave's apartment block and switched off the ignition. "Need a hand getting the bike out?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," said Dave, wondering what excuse he could use to get Carter up to his apartment. Usually with a chick he had the excuse of 'showing them his CD collection'...or offering them a nightcap...but he didn't think Carter would fall for either of those lines. But he couldn't just let Carter drive away to God knows where. Somehow he had to get him up to the apartment and distract him long enough to call Dr. Weaver. Benton and Greene were probably in the bar and cursing him by now...shit. Dave groaned as he realized that in all the commotion he hadn't managed to tell Weaver where exactly the bar was. "The Chief is gonna kill me," he said without thinking.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked Carter, hearing Dave's groan.  
  
"What? Uh, nothing...just something I was supposed to do," replied Dave quickly.   
  
Carter looked at him suspiciously for a second before getting out and unlocking the rear of the jeep.   
  
Dave slid out of the jeep and joined Carter as he tried to pull the bike out.   
  
"It's stuck," grunted Carter, as he pulled unsuccessfully.   
  
"Be careful," warned Dave, "You'll damage it if you drag it out."  
  
"Just so long as it doesn't damage my jeep," snapped Carter.   
  
"Look, it's caught on something," said Dave, "Hang on a minute, let me climb in and free it."  
  
Dave clambered carefully over the bike and felt around underneath it. "Try it now," he ordered. "And be careful."  
  
Carter rolled his eyes and yanked strongly on the bike...too strongly. The bike moved faster than Carter had expected it too. With a yelp, he jumped back out of the way...lost his balance and landed in a puddle of water as the bike crashed to the ground a few inches away from him.   
  
Dave swore as he jumped out of the jeep and crouched down beside his bike, examining it carefully for signs of damage. He breathed a sigh of relief as he failed to spot any scratches or dents that hadn't been there previously. Belatedly he remembered that the bike might not have been the only casualty of the incident and looked over at Carter who was sitting up and looking very pissed off.  
  
"Um, Carter...are you okay?"  
  
"Do I *look* okay to you?" snapped Carter. "Help me up."  
  
Dave scrambled over to his friend and yanked him up out of the puddle. "How's your back?" he asked with concern.   
  
"My back is fine," said Carter. "But look at these...they're ruined." He indicated his trousers. Not only were they splattered with muddy water but there was also a long streak of oil down one leg.  
  
"They're not ruined," said Dave, patiently. "A little bit of soap on the oil stain...toss 'em in the wash and they'll be good as new."  
  
Carter looked at him coldly. "Do you have any idea how much these cost? They're dry clean only."  
  
"Yeah? Well you shouldn't have been wearing them in the ER," snapped back Dave. "Look...I'll pay for the dry cleaning...okay?"  
  
Carter sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "No...no...you don't have to do that. It was my fault...I should have been more careful..." His voice trailed off as he saw a smirk appear on Dave's face. "What are you grinning at?"  
  
"Take a look at your hands," suggested Dave, trying not to burst out laughing.   
  
Carter did so, and groaned as he saw the smears of oil on them. "It's in my hair...right?" he asked resignedly.  
  
"And on your face," snickered Dave. In spite of his amusement, he suddenly had a great idea. "Look, you can't drive home like that. Come on up to my place...get rid of that oil...and I can lend you a pair of sweatpants...okay?"  
  
"Yeah...okay," said Carter reluctantly. All he really wanted to do was go home, but he supposed he could take the time to get cleaned up. After all, he didn't really want to ruin his seat covers by dripping all over them.   
  
Dave refrained from punching the air triumphantly and instead grabbed his bike. He had successfully gotten Carter away from the alcohol in the pub...now all that remained was to get any alcohol in his system away from Carter.   
  
As the two men climbed the stairs to Dave's apartment, he pondered the problem. Dr. Weaver and Benton had obviously tried their best to get Carter to go off the booze. But it was clear that they hadn't succeeded. Now Dave wondered if calling the Chief and letting them know where Carter was would be such a good idea. They couldn't exactly drag him back to County kicking and screaming...and he was unlikely to go willingly. Dave reluctantly decided that he was the only one in a position to help Carter dry out...shit, how the hell had he gotten himself mixed up in this. The right thing to do was to call Kerry and let her handle it...but then she hadn't exactly done a good job so far.   
  
By the time they reached the apartment, Dave had made a decision. He wasn't on duty for another 24 hours. That should give him enough time to get through to Carter...and if he couldn't...well then he'd call the Chief and let her give it her best shot.   
  
---------------------  
  
"Okay, there should be plenty of hot water," said Dave as he showed Carter to the bathroom. "If it runs out, then just kick the boiler a few times." He handed Carter a faded, almost threadbare bathrobe. "Stick this on you when you're finished and I'll try and find you something to wear. Oh, and see that red jar? That works wonders getting oil stains off...there's plenty of towels." He grinned, "You're lucky I did my laundry yesterday...anything else you need, just holler."  
  
"I think I've got everything," said Carter quietly.   
  
"Okay then...I'll just put something on for dinner...pasta okay with you?"  
  
"I'm not really hungry."  
  
Dave shrugged, "Well, I am...I'll do enough for two...if you don't want it, then it'll do me for tomorrow."  
  
Carter nodded as Dave left the room. A few minutes later, he was standing naked under the shower jet, letting the water cascade over his aching body. Ah, that was good, he thought as he slowly massaged his scalp. Not quite as effective as a quick shot of fentanyl...but an acceptable temporary substitute...shit...Carter groaned as he realized that he wouldn't be able to take anything until he got back home...after all, he couldn't exactly shoot up with Dave watching...and it would look a bit weird if he insisted on bringing his jacket with him, going to the toilet. Oh well, he thought...I can handle it...it'll only be an hour...two at most...I'll have some pasta with Dave and then I'll go home...and then I can take something...I'll be fine...I'll be fine, he repeated over and over as the dirt was washed away.  
  
----------------------  
  
Carter tied the bathrobe around him and opened the door to the bathroom. He hoped that Dave had found some clean clothes for him. There was something disconcerting about wandering around a guy's apartment wearing only a skimpy bathrobe. It just didn't seem respectable.   
  
All thoughts of respectability fled from his mind when he got as far as the living area. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped angrily.   
  
Dave looked up guiltily from where he had just started to search Carter's jacket. "Carter...this isn't what it looks like...I swear."  
  
-----------------  
  
To be continued  
  



	5. Part 5

  
Previously on ER  
As Carter hurried away from the Intervention in Curtain 3, Dave caught up with him and invited him for drinks. Carter accepted in order to avoid Benton trying to persuade him to seek help. Later in the bar, Carter told Dave that he had quit working at County. While Carter left to go to the bathroom, his cell phone rang and Dave answered it, pretending to be Carter and heard Kerry apologize to 'John' for confronting him over his addiction. Dave hung up, but not before jumping to the conclusion that Carter was an alcoholic.   
  
Carter gave Dave a lift back to his apartment. While retrieving Dave's bike from the jeep, Carter ended up in a puddle of water and covered with oil. Dave (who had been wondering how to get Carter into his apartment) offered him the use of his shower to clean up. Dave's intention was to keep Carter there for a day to dry him out, and if that didn't work, he was going to contact Kerry for help.   
  
Carter finished his shower and wearing Dave's bathrobe, wandered back into the living area.   
  
-----------------------  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" snapped Carter angrily.   
  
Dave looked up guiltily from where he had just started to search Carter's jacket. "Carter...this isn't what it looks like...I swear."  
  
-----------------  
  
"Oh isn't it? It looks perfectly clear to me...Dave 'can you lend me twenty till payday' Malucci is searching my pockets. I think I can guess what you're after," said Carter sarcastically. "Dammit Dave, if you were short of cash, all you had to do was ask."  
  
Dave blinked at Carter. "You think I was trying to steal from you?" he asked, shocked. "You think I brought you up here just so I could go through your wallet? You really believe I'm a thief?"  
  
"I don't know what to believe...you were the one who suggested I come in and have a shower...and then I come out and find you going through my stuff...what am I supposed to think?"  
  
Dave grabbed Carter's wallet out of the jacket and flung it at him. It hit Carter in the chest and fell to the floor. "Here...count it...it's all there...you really think I'd stoop so low as to steal from a friend...dammit Carter."  
  
Carter made no move to pick up his wallet. "Well if not that...then what were you looking for?" Carter's blood ran cold as he suddenly remembered what else had been in his jacket pocket. Please God; don't let Dave have found his drugs, he begged silently. He knew he should have left them in his trouser pocket after taking his dose in the bar's toilets...but while sitting in the Jeep on his own before Dave had caught up with him, he had transferred it to his jacket. Now he wished he had left it in the Jeep...if Dave found it...he'd never understand...he'd be just like all the rest...accusing him of being addicted...and he wasn't...he needed the pain medication...just for a few more weeks...maybe a month...just until his back healed up a bit better...then he'd stop...he just wished he'd been able to explain all that to Kerry and Mark...and Dr. Benton of course...he was sure that Benton would have understood...after all, he had been the first one to give him morphine after...after the stabbing...he would have understood.   
  
Dave bit his lip, wondering whether he should tell Carter that he had been looking for a hip flask. A rich dude like Carter was bound to have one...and it could easily fit into the pocket of a jacket...or a lab coat...hell, Carter could have been taking swigs in secret for months and no one would have known. Dave had already found a breath freshening spray in one pocket...that was a dead giveaway...only heavy drinkers who wanted to hide the smell of alcohol on their breath needed to carry that stuff around with them...unless you were a chick of course...they carried all sorts of unnecessary junk around in their bags...but men...they didn't need all those bits and pieces.   
  
Finally Dave decided to be honest with Carter. After all, with the apartment door double locked and bolted...the keys hidden safely in Dave's pile of clean towels...and Carter wearing only a bathrobe...he wasn't likely to be going anywhere too quickly.   
  
"I was looking for booze," he said quietly.  
  
Carter stared at Dave in surprise. Of all the reasons for Dave to be searching his jacket, this was the last one that Carter would have thought of.   
  
"Why?" he asked, finally. "I thought you'd have had plenty of beer back here...and what made you think that I'd have any in my jacket?"   
  
Dave threw the jacket on the couch. "I figured you'd have a hip flask or something...so you could have a sip now and then...Carter...I know you have a drinking problem."  
Dave saw Carter open his mouth. "There's no use denying it...I know that that's what Weaver and Greene were talking to you about today in the Lounge...and I'm guessing they tried an intervention or something... and that's why you quit County...isn't it?"  
  
Carter's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to say, "You think I have a drinking problem?"  
  
Dave nodded, then to his surprise he saw Carter burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" he asked, annoyed that Carter didn't seem to be taking it seriously. "The Chief wouldn't make up something like this."  
  
Carter abruptly stopped laughing. "Kerry told you I was an alcoholic?" he frowned, unable to imagine why she would lie like that...unless it was maybe to spare his feelings...after all, people seemed to be more sympathetic to someone with an alcohol abuse problem rather than a drug abuse problem...not that either case applied to him of course...he was just taking his necessary medication...that was all.  
  
"Well...not in so many words," said Dave, reluctantly. Shit, now he was going to have to tell Carter that he'd answered his cell phone. "You left your phone on the table in the bar...it rang...I saw it was the hospital...thought it might be important," he added, a little defensively.   
  
"You answered my phone?"  
  
Dave nodded, "Anyway, it was the Chief...she was all apologetic about confronting you earlier..."  
  
"Wait a minute, she told you about *that*?"  
  
"Um...not exactly...she thought it was you on the line."  
  
Carter groaned, wondering just what Kerry had said to Dave...and how he was going to explain it away. "What did she say?" he asked, trying to control his mounting nervousness.   
  
Dave shrugged, figuring that it didn't really matter at this stage. "She apologized for earlier...said they handled it all wrong. Then she tried to persuade you to go back to the hospital...for treatment or something...or to check yourself into Rehab."  
  
"And what did you say?"  
  
"Nothing...I just hung up...I didn't know what to say...I mean it's not everyday you find out someone you're friends with is an alcoholic and you never even noticed."  
  
"I'm not an alcoholic, Dave, I really wish you'd believe me," said Carter, as his mind raced furiously trying to think of a way to explain it all. Thank God, Kerry hadn't said anything about drugs...that would have been awkward...  
"It...it was PTSD," he said on the spur of the moment. "Kerry thinks I have PTSD from...from the stabbing...she wanted me to talk to someone in the psych department," he lied easily. "But I told her I didn't need it...and even if I did...I couldn't talk to anyone from County...then she wanted me to do this 'inpatient program'...out of State," he said with a flash of inspiration. "Anyway, she was hassling me about it...got Greene and Benton to try and back her up...but I just got fed up with everyone thinking they knew best...I guess I might have over-reacted by quitting...but maybe when things have cooled off a bit I'll apologize...and maybe things will be okay." Carter looked carefully at Dave, wondering if his story sounded plausible...he knew it wasn't brilliant...but it was the best he could come up with at short notice.   
  
Dave frowned as he wondered could he have made a horrible mistake, and then he pushed that thought from his mind. One thing about addicts...no matter what they were addicted to, they always denied...no, Carter definitely had a problem...and Dave was the only person in a position to help him. He'd better be right, thought Dave as he remembered the six-pack of beer that he had emptied down the sink while Carter was in the shower...well, five cans had gone down the sink...Dave had polished off the other one in order to steady his nerves. It had struck him as mildly ironic to be drinking while preparing to dry out Carter...but it had seemed such a shame to waste *all* the beer.  
  
"Look," said Dave, finally. "There's a simple way to prove it. You stay here for a day...without any booze or anything...if you're not an alcoholic you'll have no problem...but if you start getting withdrawal symptoms...well then I guess we'll know for sure." Dave hoped that Carter would go for it...he knew that he could easily stop Carter from leaving by using force...but he really didn't want it to come to that.  
  
Carter rolled his eyes. "Fine Dave," he said. "I'll stay here...but I'm not going to get withdrawal symptoms...I'm not an alcoholic."  
  
"We'll see about that," muttered Dave under his breath. Out loud, he said, "Pasta should be ready soon...you hungry yet?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"C'mon then," said Dave, heading for the kitchen. "You can help mix the sauce."  
  
Carter glanced at his jacket as he followed Dave into the kitchen. Okay, so he wouldn't be able to take any morphine for a day...that was fine...he still had a half-full prescription of Vicodin...and he was sure that Dave wouldn't mind him taking some painkillers...though maybe it would be better not to tell him...Carter was sure he could surreptitiously take one or two to ease the pain...and if he couldn't...well it was only twenty four hours...he could easily manage twenty four hours...it might be painful...but he could cope...and then it would prove to everyone that he didn't have a problem...not alcohol...not drugs...not anything...he didn't have a problem in the world.   
  
---------------------  
  
To be continued  
  
  



	6. Part 6

A different day in May - 06  
  
Previously on ER  
Carter gave Dave a lift back to his apartment. While retrieving Dave's bike from the jeep, Carter ended up in a puddle of water and covered with oil. Dave (who had been wondering how to get Carter into his apartment) offered him the use of his shower to clean up. Dave's intention being Carter there for a day to dry him out, and if that didn't work, he was going to contact Kerry for help.   
  
Carter finished his shower and wearing Dave's bathrobe, wandered back into the living area only to find Dave searching his jacket. Dave explained that he was trying to find Carter's stash of booze and revealed that he suspected Carter to be an alcoholic. Carter denied this, claiming that the 'confrontation' Kerry had referred to had been about his reluctance to seek treatment for PTSD. Still unconvinced, Dave had persuaded Carter to stay with him and go without drink for twenty-four hours. Although realizing that this would mean he'd be unable to take any morphine for his pain, Carter agreed.   
  
-----------------------  
  
Dave shoveled more pasta on to Carter's plate, ignoring his token protests. He knew that Carter would need all his strength to get through the drying out period. Okay, so Carter was still claiming that he wasn't going to be suffering from any withdrawal symptoms cause he wasn't addicted to alcohol, but Dave wasn't taking any chances. This wasn't going to be an easy twenty-four hours...but Carter was his friend...and he was going to do whatever it took to get him through this.  
  
Carter did his best to eat his dinner, knowing that Dave would see a lack of appetite on his part as yet another sign of his alleged alcoholism. Hell, at this stage Dave would probably see anything as a sign of alcoholism, thought Carter with a wry smile.   
  
Dave looked at Carter suspiciously as he chucked more Parmesan on his meal. He wondered what Carter was thinking. After all, he had capitulated surprisingly easily to being locked up with Dave for a day...maybe he had a plan to break out...maybe he was just waiting his chance to overpower Dave and ransack his apartment for something to drink.   
  
Dave put that idea from his mind. There wasn't any booze left in the place...well, okay, there was that half-bottle of whisky left over from a girlfriend with a fondness for Irish Coffee. Dave had toyed with the idea of pouring it down the sink along with his six-pack...but it had been expensive stuff and he hated the idea of wasting it. Finally he had decided that wrapping it in a towel and sticking it in his closet would ensure that Carter wouldn't find it...hell, even he had trouble finding stuff in there...he supposed he really should tidy it up one of these days. But anyway, Carter wasn't the violent type...no way would he get physical...and even if he *did* get violent...he could take him...easily.  
  
------------------  
  
A few hours later both men were sitting in front of the TV. Dave had the remote and was flicking idly through the channels trying to find the program with the most amount of skin and with the least amount of plot.   
  
Carter, by now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants borrowed from Dave, shifted uncomfortably on the couch. In spite of the growing pain in his back, he was actually having a good time. Dave was a fun guy to spend an evening with...even if his video selection left a lot to be desired. Carter had tactfully declined an offer to view some of Dave's more 'adult videos' and had settled for watching TV with him...he hadn't dared to ask about the stash of obviously home-taped videos that had been at the bottom of the box...some things it was better not to know too much about.   
  
Carter briefly considered faking a few of the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal just to see Dave's reaction. He could easily pretend to be shaking and agitated...hell, he could even claim to see a few pink elephants...that would really freak Dave out. He grinned at the mental image of Dave trying to convince him that there weren't any brightly colored animals in the corner of the room...man that would be fun...or would it...  
  
Carter sighed as he realized that he couldn't do something like that to Dave. After all, the guy was going out of his way to try and help a friend...granted that the friend wasn't in any need of help, but Dave's intentions were good. It wouldn't be fair to mess with his head like that. He shifted his weight around, trying to find a more comfortable position, but without much success. Damn, he thought, as he realized that what he needed was some painkillers. Just a couple of Vicodin...that would take the edge off his pain. Carter glanced at his jacket, which was on the couch between him and Dave. Just a few inches away from him, carefully tucked away in a pocket was a bottle of tablets...just a few inches, but it might as well have been a few miles for all the good it was doing him. Now if only Dave would leave the room for a minute, he'd be able to take one. Of course, there was also some morphine and a syringe, but he didn't think he needed any of that...not yet anyway...but if he could be sure that Dave would be out of the room for long enough, he might just take a shot to keep him going...sort of a 'pre-emptive strike' against the pain...just enough to help him sleep...that was all...after all, he couldn't sleep while he was in pain...and he needed his sleep if he was going to be able to work...  
  
Carter's thoughts came to a sudden halt...he didn't need to be able to work...he didn't have a job anymore...it didn't matter how much or how little sleep he got...he could sleep in, all day and every day, and it wouldn't matter...not now...not anymore...shit.   
  
Dave glanced over at Carter, wondering if he was okay. He didn't seem to be showing any of the usual symptoms of sudden alcohol withdrawal...not yet anyway...but then, it had only been a couple of hours since his last drink. Okay, the shower might have helped speed up the process...but not by much. Dave couldn't remember whether a cold shower or hot shower was more effective in sobering someone up...he knew that he usually had a cold shower when he needed to sober up quickly...but he didn't think Carter would appreciate Dave suggesting it to him...not yet anyway...but maybe in a few hours when the nausea and headaches started up...well then he might try anything to speed up the process.  
  
"You okay man?" he asked Carter quietly. "You look a bit shook."  
  
Carter jumped at the sound of Dave's voice. "What? Oh...no...I'm okay, really..."  
  
"Not feeling dizzy or sick or anything?"  
  
Carter shook his head. "Nope, I'm a bit stiff...but that's just because your couch isn't that comfortable...but I'm not feeling dizzy, nauseous or anything like that."   
  
"Oh," said Dave, a tinge of disappointment evident in his voice. Not that he *wanted* Carter to be sick or anything...but the longer it went without Carter showing any symptoms, then the more likely it was that he had made another stupid mistake. Dave wondered if he should just apologize to Carter and let him go home...after all, if he wasn't an alcoholic, then there was no point in keeping him here.   
  
"Do you want anything?" Dave asked finally. "Some tea or coffee? I've probably got some biscuits that aren't out of date."  
  
"I'm fine," said Carter. "But actually, I'd really like a cigarette. Would you mind?" He started reaching for the jacket.  
  
Dave scowled and grabbed it away from him. "Not in this apartment...no way man." He held the jacket out of Carter's reach.   
  
"Oh come on," said Carter impatiently. "Just let me have one...unless you're planning to wean me off them as well as alcohol," he said sarcastically.  
  
"A-ha," said Dave, triumphantly. "I knew you had a problem...see, you can't fool me...and yeah, maybe I will try to get you off the cigs as well, they'll kill you quicker than booze."  
  
Carter rolled his eyes. "Okay Dave, I admit that I probably do smoke more than I should...and yeah, I should give them up. But there's no way in hell you'll get me to admit I have a drinking problem, because I don't. And by the time I've been here for twenty-four hours, I'll have proved it to you."  
  
Dave eyed his friend suspiciously. There was a ring of sincerity in his voice...but then Dave had heard all the denials before...and he knew better than to believe him. Besides, it was easy to be sincere in denying an addiction if you didn't believe you *were* addicted.   
  
Carter's voice broke through his thoughts. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you Dave. But I'd really like a cigarette. I'll stick my head out a window if you don't want the smoke in your apartment...I'd offer to go outside, but I don't expect you'd let me...come on Dave, just one cigarette...please?" Carter turned on his best 'lost puppy' expression.  
  
Dave groaned, "Okay, okay...just one...and no knocking your ash all over the place, okay?"  
  
"Okay," said Carter, as he reached for the jacket.   
  
Dave held it out of his reach. "I'll get it...not that I don't trust you," he said with a grin as he plunged his hand into one of the more bulging pockets. "But..." The words died on his lips and the grin faded as he felt a familiar shape in the pocket.   
  
Pulling out his hand, he stared at the bottle of morphine and the syringe.   
  
----------------  
  
To be continued  
  
  



	7. Part 7

A different day in May - part 7  
  
Previously on ER  
  
Carter finished his shower and wearing Dave's bathrobe, wandered back into the living area only to find Dave searching his jacket. Dave explained that he was trying to find Carter's stash of booze and revealed that he suspected Carter to be an alcoholic. Carter denied this, claiming that the 'confrontation' Kerry had referred to had been about his reluctance to seek treatment for PTSD. Still unconvinced, Dave had persuaded Carter to stay with him and go without drink for twenty-four hours. Although realizing that this would mean he'd be unable to take any morphine for his pain, Carter agreed.   
  
After a good meal and a few hours of watching TV, Carter was craving a cigarette. Dave reluctantly agreed to let him smoke one.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Dave held the jacket out of Carter's reach. "I'll get it...not that I don't trust you," he said with a grin as he plunged his hand into one of the more bulging pockets. "But..." The words died on his lips and the grin faded as he felt a familiar shape in the pocket.   
  
Pulling out his hand, he stared at the bottle of morphine and the syringe.   
  
----------------  
  
"Oh shit," thought Carter as he saw the expression on Dave's face change.  
  
"What the hell are you doing with this?" asked Dave accusingly as he held up the morphine.   
  
"It...it's for my back...for the pain," said Carter, quickly. "Actually, I was going to take some soon...my back's been aching for a while now."   
  
"You're taking morphine...you're *injecting* morphine," said Dave in a neutral tone.  
  
"Yeah," said Carter, frowning slightly. "I know that most patients aren't given it...but I'm a doctor...I'm perfectly able to handle it." Carter was unsure what Dave was thinking...which was unusual in itself...normally Dave's face was an open book...but now...there was a calmness in his expression that Carter found quite unnerving. He had expected Dave to react the same way as everyone else...hurling accusations at him.   
  
"You were prescribed this?" asked Dave, trying to keep his tone neutral as his mind struggled to absorb the implications of what he had just found. Drugs and a syringe...Dave could think of only one reason why Carter would be carrying this stuff around with him...he hoped he was wrong...he prayed that there was a logical explanation for this...and not the one that had immediately jumped into his mind. How could he have been so stupid as to imagine that Carter had a drinking problem? It was all so obvious now...  
  
"What? You think I just lifted it from the drug lock-up?" asked Carter indignantly. "What the hell do you take me for? Of course it was prescribed...I'm not a junkie or anything...I just need a strong prescription for my back pain...that's all."   
  
Carter was indignant with good reason...the morphine had been obtained by prescription...granted his name had been down as the attending physician, and not the patient...it was still a legitimate prescription. Not that he'd have had to resort to such measures if his doctor had given him enough Vicodin in the first place...he'd *had* to write prescriptions himself to ensure that he didn't go short.  
  
"You can't need something this strong," said Dave. "Shit, if your back was that screwed up then you shouldn't be able to work...hell, you shouldn't be able to walk..."  
  
"What are you saying?" asked Carter, with a trace of anger on his face. "You think I'm lying to you?"  
  
"I think you've been lying to everyone...Dr. Weaver wasn't talking to you about any PTSD stuff, was she? And she doesn't think you're an alcoholic either...she thinks you're on drugs...and by the looks of things I'd say she was right."   
  
"Of course I'm on drugs," snapped Carter. "But they're just pain medication...I'm not an addict for Christ's sake. I just have some residual pain from my back. In case you didn't hear, some psycho stuck a butcher knife into me...twice...and it hurt like hell. It still hurts...but you know what hurts even more? The fact that people take one look at a syringe and automatically scream 'drug addict'. Dammit Dave, do you think I *like* sticking myself with a needle? Well, I don't...I do it because I have to...because there's no other way for me to work...and I have to be able to work."  
  
Dave looked at the morphine again, weighing it in his hand. What Carter was saying sounded plausible enough...but Dave had heard it all before...the denials...the justifications...but this was Carter, he reminded himself...not some bum off the street...Carter would know better than to overmedicate himself...wouldn't he? On a sudden impulse, Dave dropped the morphine and syringe on the couch and started rummaging through the rest of the jacket pockets. A pack of cigarettes...keys...a wallet...all found their way onto the couch.  
  
"What...what are you doing?" asked Carter a little nervously. He didn't like the cold, determined expression on Dave's face.   
  
"Something I should have done earlier," snapped Dave, as his fingers closed over the shape of a pill bottle. Pulling it out, he held it up to Carter accusingly.   
"I knew it...pills *and* morphine...Goddammit Carter, what the hell are you playing at? Don't you know it's twice as easy to OD when you're using two lots of meds? And don't tell me your doctor prescribed morphine *and*..."  
  
Dave turned the bottle around to see the label properly. His eyes widened and a look of anger came over his face as he read the patient name. "B. Knight? You son of a bitch...you used Lucy's name to get drugs..." Angrily he flung the bottle against the wall. "You sick bastard."  
  
Carter's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of something to say...some way of making Dave see reason. "I...I had to use her name...my doctor...my doctor wouldn't give me enough pain medication...I needed my meds...I couldn't work without them..."  
  
"Geez, and did you ever stop to wonder *why* he wouldn't give you more meds? Cause he was afraid of you turning into a junkie...and I guess he was right...look at yourself man, can't you see what's happening to you?"  
  
"Nothings 'happening' to me," snapped Carter. "I just need a little bit of help to get me through the day...once my back has healed up properly, I'll be fine...I won't need to take any drugs."  
  
"So you'll just stop...just like that...no problems, right?"   
  
Carter nodded. Of course he'd be able to stop...he wasn't a junkie for crying out loud. Once he didn't need his medication any more, he'd stop taking it...simple as that...he honestly didn't know what Dave and the others were so worried about. "I can stop any time I want to," he said, with an air of smugness.  
  
Dave's heart sank as he heard those words. Shit...once someone started saying that...and worse yet, believing it like Carter obviously did, then that was it... Dave was regretting his earlier impulse to dry out Carter himself...if he'd known that drugs were involved...shit...alcohol was bad enough, but he had figured that he'd be able to handle Carter's withdrawal...but drugs...this was way over his head. The sensible thing to do would be to call the Chief...tell her where Carter was and then let her handle it...after all, she was Carter's boss...she'd be able to make him see sense...but then...she hadn't exactly succeeded earlier...and Dave was pretty certain that Carter wouldn't just stand idly by and wait for reinforcements to arrive...somehow Dave was going to have to persuade Carter to seek the help he so obviously needed.  
  
"How long since your last fix?" asked Dave, quietly.  
  
"My last 'dose of medication' was a few hours ago," said Carter calmly. "And if you're waiting for me to start 'climbing the walls', then you'll be waiting a while...the worst that'll happen if I don't take any more is that I'll start to have a really bad back ache...you want to watch me in pain? Fine...you want me to suffer just to prove to you that I don't have a problem, then I'll do it... but I thought you were my friend..."  
  
"It's because I'm your friend that I'm doing this," said Dave, biting his lip. "Look...all I'm asking is for twenty four hours...one full day without taking anything...that's all you'll have to do." With a flash of inspiration, he added, "And it'll prove everyone wrong...that's what you want, isn't it? You want people to know that you don't have a problem...well here's the best way to prove it to them."  
  
Carter had the sinking feeling that he'd just let himself be maneuvered into something he really didn't want to do. He knew that he could survive a day without any medication...at least he was pretty sure that he could...he'd never had to try and cope without even a couple of Vicodin to get him through the day...of course there weren't going to be any withdrawal symptoms for Dave to notice...there was just going to be the pain...the pain that he had been living in fear of since February...waking up on the table in Trauma one had been the most agonizing experience of his life...ever since then he had lived in fear of being in that much pain again. "It's only for a day," he told himself. "Just twenty-four hours...less than that cause it's been a few hours since your last shot...you can do this...you can cope..."  
  
"Okay," said Carter finally. "But after this you'll stop hassling me about my medications?"  
  
"If you go the full day without any withdrawal symptoms then I'll write you a script myself," said Dave. Inwardly he was hoping that Carter wouldn't hold him to it...even if he wasn't overdoing the meds...mixing them like that couldn't be good for him...Dave just hoped that Carter would come to his senses about this before it was too late.   
  
Grabbing the drugs and syringe, Dave stuck them in his pocket before giving the jacket back to Carter. "I'm gonna make some coffee," he said, quietly. "You want some? Or I could heat youze up some milk...it'll help you sleep...that is if you want to."  
  
"I'm not thirsty," said Carter as he gathered up his belongings, "but I think I'll try and sleep...what about you?"  
  
"I'm gonna stay awake," said Dave pointedly. "The couch folds out into a bed...you'll be more comfortable that ways."  
  
Carter nodded; unsurprised that Dave was going to keep watch over him...although in a strange way it was sort of comforting, knowing that he wasn't going to be left alone with his pain.  
  
As Dave left the room to get a blanket, Carter unfolded the bed from the couch and lay down on it, trying to make himself comfortable. The mattress had obviously been well used...probably by one or more of Dave's girlfriends thought Carter sourly as he felt a spring poke into his leg. Shit...this wasn't going to help his back at all, he thought as he shifted position. His eyes fell on the container of Vicodin that Dave had thrown against the wall in anger. "He must have forgotten about it," Carter told himself as he wondered if he'd have time to take a pill before Dave came back. "He can't have forgotten it," a voice in his mind said. "He's just left it there to see if you'll try and take some...he doesn't trust you...nobody trusts you..."  
  
Carter bit his lip as he slowly started to push himself off the couch. The tablets were only a few yards away...he could easily take a few and leave the bottle where it was for Dave to retrieve it when he remembered it...Dave would never realize that there were less tablets in it than there had been earlier...just a few tablets...hell, even just one would ease the pain...just one tablet...  
  
---------------------  
  
To be continued  
  
  



	8. Part 8

A different day in May - part 8  
  
Previously on ER  
  
After a good meal and a few hours of watching TV, Carter was craving a cigarette. Dave reluctantly agreed to let him smoke one, but when trying to find cigarettes in Carter's jacket, he found morphine and Vicodin instead. Dave realized that Carter was addicted to drugs and not alcohol. Carter vehemently denied this accusation but reluctantly agreed to stay with Dave intending to prove to him that he wasn't addicted. However, he wasn't looking forward to spending the next few hours in pain. When Dave left the room to get a blanket, Carter noticed that the bottle of Vicodin which Dave had thrown away earlier was lying forgotten on the ground.   
  
-----------------------  
  
Carter bit his lip as he slowly started to push himself off the couch. The tablets were only a few yards away...he could easily take a few and leave the bottle where it was for Dave to retrieve it when he remembered it...Dave would never realize that there were less tablets in it than there had been earlier...just a few tablets...hell, even just one would ease the pain...just one tablet...  
  
---------------------  
  
Before Carter could summon up the nerve to retrieve his medication, he heard Dave coming back into the room. Quickly he lay back down on the mattress and tried to appear nonchalant.   
  
Dave frowned as he caught Carter's movement out of the corner of his eye. He had the sudden feeling that he had forgotten something important...oh well, he shrugged mentally...if it's important it'll come back to me later, he thought.  
  
Chucking the pillow and blanket at Carter, Dave said, "Make yourself comfortable Carter. You sure you don't want something to drink? I can zap some milk in the microwave for you...might help you sleep."  
  
"I don't need help sleeping," said Carter, a little petulantly. "Or at least I wouldn't if you'd let me take something for my back."  
  
Dave rolled his eyes. "Look, I know this isn't gonna be easy...but it's only..."  
  
"Only for twenty-four hours, I know...I know," said Carter, grumpily as he draped the blanket around him. "You keep telling me that, like it's going to make the time go faster...well it won't...it just keeps ramming it home that I'm going to be in pain for that long."  
  
He rolled over until he was facing into the couch and wrenched the blanket up around him, cursing slightly as he pulled it too far, exposing his feet.   
  
Wordlessly, Dave pulled on the blanket and gently tucked it in around Carter. "I'm sorry...I don't want to put you through any pain...but it's the only way I know how to do this...c'mon Carter...don't be mad at me...I'm only trying to help you."  
  
Carter sighed...he knew that Dave's heart was in the right place...he just wished he wasn't so misguided in his efforts to help. "I know you're only doing what you think is right," he said finally, his voice muffled by the blanket. "And I appreciate you trying to help me...but it's not necessary...I don't have a problem."  
  
Carter sounded so sincere that Dave was almost convinced, but then he remembered that the Chief had believed that Carter had a problem as well...and whatever about his own judgment...he trusted hers implicitly. "Try to sleep," he instructed Carter. "It'll make the time go quicker."  
  
"Whatever," mumbled Carter as he tried to get more comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he was tired. It had been a long day...both physically and mentally strenuous. He was barely aware of Dave leaving the room.  
  
-------------------  
  
Dave brewed up a large mug of coffee for himself. Sipping it slowly, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Carter's sleeping form. Mentally he reviewed the common symptoms for drug withdrawal. This wasn't going to be easy...and Dave was well aware that the severity of the symptoms was affected by the length and intensity of the addiction. Well Carter couldn't have been using before the stabbing...it would have shown up while he was in hospital...but there was no way of knowing how much stuff was in his bloodstream...and how long it would take to clear out. Dave was also aware that in cases of heavy users going 'cold turkey', the symptoms could be so severe as to be life threatening. He had already made up his mind to call County if Carter displayed any serious withdrawal symptoms. No way was he going to risk his friend's life...no way in hell. Carter wouldn't be too happy about that...but better a live and pissed off friend than a dead one. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that...hopefully once Carter copped on that he had been overmedicating so much that he'd gotten hooked, maybe then he'd realize that he needed professional help to kick it. God, he hoped that he could persuade Carter to get professional help...  
  
Dave just hoped that it was a case of overmedication...the thought that Carter could be doing drugs just to get high...that was something he didn't want to think about.   
  
-------------------  
  
Dave switched off the main lights in the room, leaving only a small side light for illumination. Carter looked to be asleep on the couch, so Dave settled himself in an armchair and dug out a book. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled an all-nighter for one reason or another...and the coffee should help keep him awake. He would have turned on the TV but he didn't want to disturb Carter...maybe later...when Carter started feeling ill...maybe then he'd switch on the TV to keep him distracted...but until then, he had just his book for entertainment.  
  
---------------------  
  
Carter awoke a few hours later to find himself on his hands and knees beside the couch. He moaned softly as he clutched at his stomach. Oh God, this was worse than when he had regained consciousness after being stabbed. The pain was ripping through him...God he needed his morphine. Carter groaned again as he remembered that the morphine was safely tucked away in Dave's pocket.   
  
At the thought of Dave, he looked around and saw him sprawled in the chair...asleep...a book lying open on the floor by his feet. Carter tried to stifle his moans of pain, but Dave showed no signs of waking. Haleh had once said that Malucci could sleep through a crowd of stampeding elephants. As Carter watched, Dave sighed in his sleep and twisted around in the chair. Carter could see the bottle of morphine bulging in his pocket. It was so close...and the way Malucci slept, he could easily grab it, give himself a shot and have it back in the pocket before he even noticed it was missing. Carter forced himself to crawl towards the chair.   
  
He was on his knees beside Dave...his shaking hand poised above the chair...trying to summon up the nerve to get his medication...when Dave mumbled something incoherent and twisted around in the chair again. Carter almost cried out in anguish as he watched Dave's bulging pocket disappear from view. There was no way he could get the bottle now...no possible way he could get his hands on his pain relief without waking his friend. Oh God, thought Carter, I can't go on...I need something...anything...  
  
He slumped to the floor; his arms wrapped around him and tried not to scream as a wave of pain surged through him. Maybe he should wake Dave...try and persuade him that he needed something for the pain...Dave wouldn't want to see him like this...he'd surely relent and allow him a shot of morphine...hell, even a few Vicodin would...Carter opened his eyes as he remembered the tablets which Dave had forgotten about. Oh yes...there they were...just a few yards away.   
  
Pushing himself to his hands and knees, Carter crawled painfully over to where the bottle lay. Halfway there, he stopped...groaning as a wave of nausea swept over him. Finally he reached the bottle and slumped against the wall. Fumbling with the lid, he almost cried in frustration as his hands refused to obey him. After what seemed like hours, he managed to remove the lid...only to have his shaking hands spill the contents on the ground around him.  
  
"I only need one," he said. "Just one...I'll put the rest back...Dave will never know..."  
  
Slowly he reached out for the pills.  
  
---------------------  
  
Dave could feel something digging into his hip...he tried to ignore it...tried to go back to sleep...but he couldn't. Cursing under his breath, he felt around, trying to locate the source of his discomfort. His eyes still closed, his hand closed around the familiar shape of a medication bottle. Huh? Why had he something like that in his pocket? Ah shit, thought Dave, as he remembered that he was supposed to be making sure that Carter was okay. Blinking in the dim light, he tried to focus his bleary eyes on the couch, and groaned as he saw the crumpled blanket on the floor.   
  
Pushing himself up from the chair, he winced at the cramp in his neck from sleeping in the chair. To his relief, he saw Carter sitting against the wall on the other side of the room.   
  
"Carter...you okay man?" asked Dave, as he made his way over to his friend.   
  
Carter looked up in shock at the sound of Dave's voice. His hand instinctively closed over a handful of Vicodin.  
  
Dave saw the sudden movement and groaned again as he remembered throwing the pills against the wall. "Give them to me Carter," he ordered. "Come on man...you don't want to do this...please Carter...don't be an idiot..."  
  
"I...I can't," said Carter. "I...I need them...you...you don't know the pain I'm in...I need them...my back...I'm in so much pain..." He clutched his stomach as another cramp hit him.  
  
Dave's heart sank. "That's not pain from your injuries...that's withdrawal symptoms." He crouched down beside Carter and started gathering up the pills. "Come on Carter...give me the pills...you know you don't want to do this."  
  
Carter kept his fist clenched around the pills...they were his only chance to get through the rest of the night. "No...they're mine...I need them," he replied stubbornly.   
  
"I don't want to have to take them from you," said Dave. "But I'll use force if necessary."  
  
The only response from Carter was a sudden movement of his hand as he tried to swallow the pills...but Dave's reflexes...plus the fact that he wasn't hampered by spasms of pain made it easy for him to grab Carter's wrist. A quick twist...followed by a yelp of pain from Carter...and the pills were in Dave's hand.  
  
"I'm sorry Carter," said Dave, as he stood up. "I didn't want to hurt you..."  
  
"What...what are you going to do with them?" asked Carter.  
  
"I'm gonna flush em like I should've done hours ago...and I'm gonna dump the morphine as well."  
  
Dave had his back to Carter as he headed for the bathroom. He didn't see the look of shock on Carter's face...he also didn't see the look of fear as Carter realized that once his medication was gone then he'd be stuck with his pain for several more hours...he didn't see Carter push himself painfully to his feet and stumble after him. He *did* hear Carter's footsteps coming after him, but by the time he turned round, Carter had caught up with him and was swinging wildly.   
  
Desperation lent Carter strength and that coupled with surprise meant that his first punch knocked Dave to the ground. As he lay there dazed...feeling a trickle of blood run down his chin, he saw Carter reach for the Vicodin, which had fallen from his grasp.   
  
"Don't do it," said Dave, through a mouth that was already starting to swell. "Please Carter...don't you see what's happening? Don't take the pills..."  
  
Carter bit his lip as he looked at his friend sprawled on the ground in front of him. As if in slow motion, he saw himself shaking out two pills into his hand...raising them to his mouth...and then swallowing them.   
  
---------------------  
  
To be continued  
  
  



	9. part 9

A different day in May - part 9  
  
Previously on ER  
  
Carter went to sleep on Dave's couch, only to wake a few hours later in a lot of pain. After unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his morphine from a sleeping Dave, he remembered the bottle of Vicodin that Dave had hurled against the wall and forgotten to clear up. Dave woke up while Carter was trying to take the pills and managed to get them back. On his way to flush them, he was attacked by Carter, who taking him by surprise managed to get his hands on the pills.   
  
-----------------------  
  
"Don't do it," said Dave, through a mouth that was already starting to swell. "Please Carter...don't you see what's happening? Don't take the pills..."  
  
Carter bit his lip as he looked at his friend sprawled on the ground in front of him. As if in slow motion, he saw himself shaking out two pills into his hand...raising them to his mouth...and then swallowing them.   
  
---------------------  
  
Carter closed his eyes and sighed as he swallowed the tablets. Thank God for Vicodin, he thought, knowing that the pain would soon be nothing but an unpleasant memory. This was what he needed...this was what he had needed all along...he leaned back against the wall and slowly slid to the ground. The pain was easing now...the cramps had subsided...the nausea too. He let his head fall back against the wall and sighed...everything was going to be all right now.  
  
Dave managed to push himself up off the floor. His head was spinning, partly from the punch...partly from seeing the look on Carter's face just before he had hit him. With a groan, he sat back against the wall. This had all gone wrong...why hadn't he just called the Chief and let her deal with Carter...he should have known that he wasn't going to be able to do it. "Not again," he said almost to himself, closing his eyes. "Not again."  
  
Carter had a half smile on his face as he opened his eyes. The smile faded as he saw Dave slumped against the wall opposite him. "Oh God," thought Carter as he saw Dave dab hesitantly a trickle of blood that was running down his chin. He looked uncertainly at Carter, pain and anguish in his eyes before turning away.   
  
Carter felt sick at the dawning realization that he had done this to his friend...all for a couple of lousy pills...all because he couldn't go a few hours without them. Carter forced himself to look at the bottle of pills in his hand. How could he have been so desperate only a few minutes ago? The answer hit him like a ton of bricks.   
  
"No," he moaned softly. The cramps...the nausea...he had seen it all before...but he had been the one watching in anguish as Chase had struggled to break free of his addiction. "I'm not like Chase," he told himself. "I...I can't be..." But in his heart he knew that he was.  
  
Pushing himself up off the floor, he stumbled past Dave and into the small bathroom. Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, he jammed his fingers down his throat until he felt his muscles spasm, retching up the contents of his stomach. With only a moments hesitation he upended the pill container over the bowl and watched as the remainder of the Vicodin tumbled into the water.   
  
Dave leaned against the doorframe and watched silently as Carter flushed the toilet and then sat back dejectedly on the ground.   
  
Carter turned around and saw Dave watching him. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "I...I never meant to hurt you."   
  
"It wasn't you...it was the drugs," said Dave, walking into the room and crouching down beside him. "You weren't in control." Glancing into the toilet bowl, he asked, "D'you think you absorbed any of the pills?"  
  
"I don't know," said Carter, his voice bordering on hysteria. "Should I have fished them out of the water to check?"  
  
"Hey, take it easy Hoss," said Dave, reassuringly as he patted Carter on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay."  
  
"No it's not," said Carter, flinching away from Dave's touch. "It's never going to be okay...I...I couldn't even last a few hours without taking the Vicodin. What am I going to do?"  
  
Dave could see that Carter was close to breaking down completely. "Okay Carter...you can get through this...just calm down a minute...you can beat this thing, you hear?"   
  
"I...I don't know if I can," said Carter wrapping his arms round his knees and rocking back and forth. "I...I'm scared Dave...help me...I don't know what to do..."  
  
Dave thought quickly. "What the Chief said to you earlier...about getting treatment...did she say anywhere specific?"  
  
Carter looked up, "Some place in Atlanta...Mark said there was a place there that specialized in doctors who were...who were..." Carter closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. "He said it specialized in doctors with dependency problems."   
  
"You mean doctors addicted to drugs," said Dave in as neutral a tone as possible. He wanted Carter to say it out loud...much as he hated the thought of it being true; he wanted his friend to admit he was an addict.  
  
"Yes," whispered Carter, so softly that Dave could hardly hear him. "Doctor who are addicted to drugs...like me..."   
  
Dave felt a surge of relief as he heard Carter finally admit it. Granted it was a long road from admitting a drug problem to successfully recovering from it...but it was the first step...and one of the hardest to do. "Okay," he said gently. "First thing we gotta do is get you to Atlanta. You got any cash?"  
  
"What?" asked Carter, confused. "No...but I've got a credit card...Dave no...please, don't make me go there...can't...can't I stay here? You could help me go 'cold turkey'...please Dave..." There was genuine fear in Carter's face and voice. He knew that he needed to get clean...but the thoughts of going into Rehab...alone among strangers...he shuddered.  
  
"Aw man," said Dave, "Sure I could help you go 'cold turkey'...I could keep you here...keep you safe until the drugs were out of your body." He leaned over towards Carter and tapped him gently on the forehead. "But they'd still be up there...until you can get your head round what got you onto them in the first place...until you can get past *why* you got hooked...you'll never be able to stay away from them...and I can't help you with that...you need someone who knows what they're doing...people who've been trained in this...shit, I barely passed my psych rotation...I can help you get clean physically...but not mentally...and that's where it counts." He looked at Carter with compassion.   
  
Carter knew that Dave was right...after all, wasn't that what he had done to Chase...he had helped him get off heroin...for a little while...but he hadn't addressed the real problem...why he had started taking it in the first place...maybe it wouldn't have made any difference...he'd never know. "I...I understand," he said quietly.   
  
They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Dave spoke up. "We should get going..." He pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out to Carter.   
  
"I guess so," replied Carter as he let Dave pull him up off the floor. Something Dave had said earlier came back to him. "What did you mean...earlier...you said 'not again'...what did you mean?"  
  
Dave let go of Carter's hand and stepped back. "It...it was a long time ago...I don't wanna talk about it," he said, pain evident in his voice.  
  
Carter frowned, "You've done this before, haven't you?" he said, with a flash of insight. "You've tried to help someone with a drug problem."  
  
"I said, I don't want to talk about it," snarled Dave, pushing past Carter and heading for the door. "It's none of your business. Now come on, we have to get to the airport."  
  
"What happened? Didn't it work?" asked Carter as he followed Dave.  
  
Dave turned around and faced Carter, "No it didn't work," he said angrily. "I got her clean...she swore blind she'd never touch the stuff again...and...and I believed her...and...and a few weeks later...I...I woke up and she was dead in the bed beside me...and I'd killed her Carter...if I'd made her get help instead of trying to play doctor, then she'd have been okay...but I didn't...and she died...and I'm not gonna let another friend down...not again...I'm not letting it happen again..."   
  
"I...I'm sorry Dave...I had no idea..."  
  
"How the hell would you have known? Shit, I don't exactly go round telling people that my girlfriend OD'd next to me and I didn't even notice cause I was too drunk." Dave took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was noticeably calmer. "That's why you have to go to Rehab...I figured that if you got sick enough without your pills then you'd be able to see it for yourself."  
  
"It worked," said Carter, managing a half smile. The smile faded as he realized that he was going to have to go through it all again...and this time he wasn't going to be able to get any relief from the pain. He shuddered at the thought.   
  
Dave noticed the shudder. "They'll be able to help you out in Atlanta...they'll have IV's, and methadone and all that shit...it'll be bad...but it won't be as bad as doing it alone...they'll be able to help you Carter, you just gotta keep remembering that...they'll be able to help you...but you have to get there first...they can't help you if you don't go there freely."  
  
Carter nodded. "I...I know...I...I'm scared...but I know it's the only way."  
  
------------------------  
  
The announcement came over the PA system. "Flight 101 to Atlanta now boarding. All passengers please make their way to gate 7."  
  
"Guess that's me," said Carter hesitantly as he stood up. His hands were shaking as he checked his ticket again.  
  
"You sure you're gonna be okay on the plane?" asked Dave, concern evident in his voice.   
  
"No...but I don't exactly have a choice...I can't put this off any longer..." Carter bit his lip hesitantly. "You...you'll phone Dr. Weaver...let her know where I am?"   
  
"Sure thing man," said Dave.   
  
Carter held out his hand to Dave. "I...I just want to say thank you...I mean, I don't think I'd ever have faced up to this without your help. I don't know if I'm going to beat this...but I know I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."  
  
"Ah shit, Carter. Don't go all mushy on me," said Dave, trying to force a smile on his face, but failing miserably. He hated the thought of sending Carter off on his own, but the first flight to Atlanta had been almost fully booked when they had reached the airport, and the next available flight hadn't been until five hours later. It had a choice between sending Carter off alone or waiting for the later flight and have Carter go 'cold turkey' in the meantime. Neither option was satisfactory, but Dave hoped they'd made the right decision.   
  
Instinctively Dave pulled Carter into a hug. "You're going to beat this Carter...you're tougher than anyone I know...hell, I'd never have survived even a day as Benton's med-student...you can get through this...I know you can."  
  
"I hope you're right," said Carter softly, before breaking away from Dave. "I'll call when I get to Rehab...or get someone to call..." Gripping the ticket tightly, he headed for the check-in gate.   
  
"Be well Carter," called Dave, watching as his friend handed in his ticket to the stewardess. "Be well," he said softly to himself as Carter disappeared down the boarding ramp.  
  
---------------------------  
  
Carter settled himself into the street and fastened the belt securely. Wiping his sweating palms on his top, he wondered how long it would be before the plane took off. The sooner the better as far as he was concerned...not that he was especially keen to get to Atlanta...but the less time on the ground...the less chance that he would chicken out and get off the plane.   
  
The stewardesses seemed to be taking their time settling the passengers. Carter looked at his watch, sure that he had been waiting for hours, but only a few minutes had passed. "Oh God, when are we going to get going?" he thought as he rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes. He could hear the sound of last minute passengers moving up and down the plane and groaned as he heard someone settle into the seat beside him. "Dammit," he thought, hoping he wouldn't have to try and make polite conversation with someone all the way to Atlanta. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed then whoever it was would take the hint and leave him alone...or he could always pretend to be a deaf mute...that might work.  
  
"I hear the weather in Atlanta is mighty fine this time of year," said a voice beside him.  
  
Carter's eyes flew open and he looked in shock at his traveling companion.   
  
"Long time no see," said Dave with a grin, enjoying the look of astonishment on Carter's face.  
  
"Oh my God...I thought...there were no seats...oh God...you're coming with me?" Carter stammered.  
  
"Unless you'd rather I stayed in Chicago?" said Dave, pretending to stand.  
  
Carter grabbed his hand. "No...no...I mean, yes...I mean...I'm glad you're here," he said simply. "But how?"  
  
"Last minute cancellation...I was almost sitting on top of the check in desk trying to charm the clerk...but she gave it to me anyway...figured I could phone the Chief as easily from Atlanta as Chicago." Dave continued in a more serious tone. "I know you have to do this alone...and I know it's not gonna be easy...but there's no sense in making it harder than it has to be. I'm gonna stay with you right to the door of the Rehab center in Atlanta...and as far past it as they'll let me...and when you're all fixed up and ready to come back to Chicago...I'll be waiting for you then. You're my friend Carter...and I'm gonna help you through this."  
  
Carter could feel tears form in his eyes at Dave's words. "Thank you," he said softly. "I...I don't deserve a friend like you."  
  
"Probably not," said Dave. "And after being stuck next to me for the next few hours you won't be feeling so kindly towards me. Hell, in a couple of hours, you'll be cursing my name for making you do this."   
  
"No I won't," said Carter seriously. "I know it's going to be a long road...but I'll always be grateful to you for putting me on it."  
  
-------------------------  
  
The End  
  



End file.
